Muggle Raised Tendencies
by DramionePerfected
Summary: They are both familiar with the OTHER world - back there, they are more alike than they'd like to admit. Maybe all they need is a push to make them realise they are what they have been looking for. A friendship fic,fluff if I'm feeling nice. Set yr1/7.
1. Taking Diff'rent Strokes

_**Muggle-Raised Tendencies -  
**__**Taking Diff'rent Strokes**_

_DISCLAIMER: Whoa! Hang on a mo, me duckie! You HONESTLY believe I came up with the gorgeous, charming, brilliant Chosen One - Harry Potter? You silly little muggles, you! The only thing Jo and I have in common is nationality. Hey, did you hear? She might be nominated for a Nobel Prize! Isn't she a lucky bunny! But that's only gossip, of course. I also don't own Diff'rent Strokes, I just like Arnold's catchphrase. XD He was so CUTE!  
__**Warning! Hhr! If you don't like… Who cares? Flame… and I'll feed you to a grindylow. But CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM = CHOCOLATE FROGS! XD Simples as! Oh, a DO REVIEW, DAHLING! You know it makes sense!**_

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_*** 1***_

_**HARRY**_

_September 5th__ 1991, 2230 hours_

"_What'chu talkin' bout, Weasley?" _Over my shoulder, I heard a loud snort as Dean erupted into hysterical laughter. The remaining three pairs of eyes in the dormitory continued to stare at me blankly, looking perplexed. "But that WAS right!" Ron sighed. "I'm sure it was! Don't pretend you knew it either, Dean" - at this moment he paused to throw a suspicious-looking Every-Flavour Bean at my new roommate's head, causing him to stop laughing and duck - "You weren't listening in Potions either!"  
"To be honest, I think I could have listened to it a million times over and still not understand the task!" Neville piped up, collapsing backwards against his pillow.  
"Seriously!" Seamus yelled, completely oblivious to the fact we were all less that ten feet away. "Old sour-grapes Snape seems to have a right stick up his arse. Only a complete loner like him would have the time to memorise the whole volume of 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi and Their Properties! And all those questions he gave Potter! That was bang out of order, mate! Bang out of-"  
"Don't take it personally!" Ron butted in, recovering from his daze. "He has a go at everyone, even Percy says he didn't like him, and he was a proper teacher's pet."

"A teachers pet, eh? A bit like that girl who was next to Harry today then." said Dean with a sly smile. "Well, by the looks of the looks she was giving Harry, maybe not exactly like your bro Percy. Or maybe yes. Or NO! I don't know what goes on under your roof!" Dean said, quickly correcting himself multiple times as he caught sight of Ron's glare. If looks could kill, Dean would be six feet under. Clearing his throat, he quickly turned the subject back to Hermione, my know-it-all, sweet-ish kind-of-stalker. "Sweet Jesus, she seemed a right lady, but there she was, pushing the boat out, sitting with Capone over here. Kylie's got expensive taste, non? Not that Mr Capone exactly seemed to mind"

"Do one, Dean." I muttered, heat rising in my neck. What was his problem? This kind of piss-taking is definitely something I am going to have to get used to. Back in Little Whinging, my existence being ignored was the norm, or I was otherwise being battered by Dudley. Either way, this was different - I somehow doubted that Dean was going to sit on me. And to make matters worse, he was right. I didn't mind sitting with Hermione at all, though Ron looked a bit put out. She smelled pretty, like lavender or something, and she would have looked pretty, too, if it wasn't for her massive hair. She kind of pulls it off, though, in a weird, couldn't-care-less, geek-girl way - her nerdiness is kind of cute. All through that potions lesson she didn't take her eyes off her cauldron once, biting her lip in concentration, like the world as we know it would end if she did so much as overdose on one shred of gillyweed. But I _MOST DEFINETELY DO NOT _have a crush on her. No way, not like that. And if I did… its not like I'd tell. Guys like me don't go with girls like her anyway, not in real life, outside the movies. I doubt she'd feel the same way, too. And if she did, it wouldn't make sense. Dates in the library? Mint gum instead of chocolates? How on earth would that work? And in my distraction, let myself get into an argument … with myself. I really need to get my head inspected. I blame the scar. It's interfering with my brain.

Meanwhile, whilst I argued with myself over whether or not bushy hair looked cute on girls, the conversation amongst my roommates continued.  
"Kylie? Capone? What you talking bout, Thomas?" Seamus mocked.  
"Capone, as in Al, 'cause he's Scarface, right!" Dean gabbled, proud of his own inventiveness. "And Kylie, 'cause they both have pretty massive ha- wait!" He said, abruptly stopping mid-flow. "Do you even know the significance of that?"  
"Of what?"  
"The 'what you talking bout' thing, smartarse! You can't just SAY it! That would be like me saying… Well… I don't know! It would be an insult, though!" Dean yelled melodramatically, his face turning red with embarrassment. "The whole point is that… well… me and Harry _get _it! You lot have had the whole wizard upbringing thing, and me and Harry and 'Mione get this stuff. It's our past, like. And if you don't know the story, it just an insult to little.. Oh, what's his face? You're just using it. Anyway… that's it." There was an awkward pause as I came up to speed with the conversation. No-one really knew what to say - Neville and Ron are Pure-bloods, and Seamus and I are half-blood, so I wasn't really in the same boat as Dean at all. It was exceedingly uncomfortable - only Malfoy talks about Blood Status like this, to make a point. Ron looked outraged, and was about to retort when I stood up, and slowly walked over to the dormitory door. "Where you off, Potter?" Seamus asks, still far too loud. I shook my head, not wanting to get caught up in the chat that could easily escalate into a bitter argument - I really didn't wanted a repeat of the last eleven years after all this effort to fit in. "I think I left something in the Common Room," I lied. "Back in five." I reached for the handle, pulling the door open, and paused in the doorway. "And by the way Dean," I grinned, looking back over my shoulder. "It's Gary Coleman, Arnold when he was in Diff'rent Strokes. He used to say it to Willis, remember?"  
"That's the one!" Dean exclaimed. Soon after, the conversation amongst my housemates drifted back to a mix of classes and Quidditch , and I was free to leave the dormitory without worrying who's body I'd find under the floorboards. "God bless Arnold." I muttered, and headed down the stairs, humming the theme from _Diff'rent Strokes _and wondering if Hermione could ever help Arnold figure out what Willis was talking about.

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_So, there you go. Part one of three. Fluff soon, I PROMISE! BTW, I know most of the stuff Dean says is random, but you have to imagine it with a bit of a Del-Boy Trotter air - very, very cockney, because it says that Dean is a West Ham fan (like my dad), and WHU supporters tend to be from the cockney end of Lahn-dun! Review, 'cause that's what I live for! And R.I.P. Gary Coleman. Xxx lovely jubbly, innit? _

_More soon, yours truly, DramionePerfected 3_


	2. Hermione Granger, Definition: Loner

_**Muggle-Raised Tendencies-  
**__**Hermione Granger - Definition: Loner**_

DISCLAIMER: I am secretly a ninja, so I stole J.K.'s identity and went wild with H.P and co. Don't worry, Jo, they'll be back before morning.. Once again, Hhr warnings. Reviews welcome, constructive criticism welcome, flames will be used to cook pop tarts, d'accord?

_Author's Note: LUMOS! Hey! Now wasn't that quick! What, 30 miutes to update? Say WHAT? Ok, next bit's going to be short but sweet (again!), but from Hermione's point of view. She's out after curfew, crying, bless her, and feeling a tad homesick…_

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_***2***_

_**Hermione**_

_September 5__th__ 1991, 2232 hours_

_Ugly, ugly, ugly. _I stared at myself in the ancient pocket mirror, and I was not happy with what I saw. A pale, blotchy-faced thing with scarlet, streaming eyes; fat, tear-stained cheeks; chapped, bitten lips and ridiculously wild, bushy hair, flying every which way in the wind. I leaned against the cold stone wall and sank to the floor, wiping my face with a sodden tissue whilst I tried to gulp back the tears.

It had all happened before - being teased, bullied, that is. For being too clever. For not being pretty enough. For not having any friends. Back then, when I was either at Infant school, or Junior school, my parents were just a few streets away to run to at the end of a long, torturous day. They would hug me and tell me the other girls were just jealous of me for being so smart, and my dad would spin me round and round until my tears were laughter. We would walk up the front drive hand in hand, and my mum would say that I was the prettiest girl in whole wide world. Back then, I believed her. Now, I'm not so sure.

I thought Hogwarts would be the best thing that ever happened to me. When Professor McGonagall had arrived on my street that day in June, decked out in full witches robes and carrying an aged parchment envelope in her hand, I really thought I was something special. She convinced me that this world, a whole other world from my parents, from the ordinary non-magic folk, was the place where I belonged. For a professor, Minerva McGonagall had been incredibly stupid. Just like when I was amongst Muggles, I had been teased, taunted, and made a fool of. The only problem was, at the end of this school day, there was no-one to run to.

At first I considered telling a professor - but what was there to tell? It wasn't their fault I hadn't settled in, and they certainly couldn't _make _the other children like me. I couldn't just walk up to the popular kids like Harry and Ron, or Lavender and Pavarti, and start talking to them - I would probably say something wrong, and die of embarrassment, and besides, they wouldn't want to know anyway. I had sort of hoped that there would be another first-year outcast that I could relate to, maybe even get to know, but the only other kid who seemed sort-of like me was Neville the klutz, and somehow even he had managed to be friends with bloody Harry Potter.

Harry bloody Potter seemed to be absolutely bloody perfect. Perfect goofy smile that could make you melt like butter, the perfect laugh that you could hear from a mile away, the perfect voice that could make you heart rate go a thousand beats a second. His perfect kindness, and generosity, and love for magic, and his perfect eyes that always looked excited or proud or hopeful. Maybe I liked him, even loved him, but he definitely did not love me. How could he? He barely even knew my name, and I could only blame myself for that. Finally, I realised the only reason I wasn't popular here was that I could never build up the nerve to talk around anyone, especially Harry, and maybe if I had, he'd have seen me, looked at me with his beautiful green eyes and see something other than the boring, frumpy 'Mione everybody else saw, and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't be here crying alone.

Sighing heavily, I stood, pulling my cardigan closer to my frame and got up from the side of the portrait, where the fat lady in her lurid pink dress sat snoring. With a light tap on the frame, she awoke, looking round wildly. _'Caput Draconus' _I whispered hoarsely, and the fat lady, spotting my tear-streaked face, nodded and swung open, allowing me through the hole to hopefully get to bed and sleep at last.

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_Only JUST a page on windows word processor, but hey, it's the lead-up. REVIEW or I'll be very, VERY upset. You just watch or I'll throw a Moaning Myrtle tantrum, and let me tell you, it won't be pretty. I've almost finished the next chapter already, so it should be up soon. Before I go, I will leave you with this quote by the brilliant Derrick 'Del-Boy' Trotter in the Only Fools And Horses episode "Cash and Curry"__**: "As Macbeth said to Hamlet… in Mid-summer Night's Dream… We've been done up like a couple of kippers!"**__ XD Until next time, me old mukkas - and that's FINALLY were there's a bit of fluff :)_

_Bye! _


	3. Mercury, 'Mallows and Roadkill Bunnies

_**Muggle-Raised Tendencies: Mercury, 'Mallows and Road-kill Bunnies**_

_A/N: So sorry I didn't update as fast as I said I would!  
Disclaimer: I sit here, listening to Queen on my iPod. I downloaded the current song (Bohemian Rhapsody) from iTunes. If I was J., I could probably buy Queen's rights all for myself, and then only I would be graced with Freddie Mercury's voice. But some things just aren't ever gonna happen, are they, Sonny Jim? Ok, enough from me, on with the story!_

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***3***

_**September 5th**__** 1991, 2240hours **_

**Harry**

_I was barely out of the door when I heard a shuffling ahead. _I sighed, frustrated, thinking Neville was following me - it wouldn't have been the first time. Maybe me mentioning forgetting something made him remember something he had lost - or maybe he was checking out of habit. Everyone has their annoying habits here - Seamus is far too loud in every instance, Neville would forget his own head if it wasn't screwed on, Dean is too cocky for his own good and Ron is extremely hot-tempered when provoked. And me… I'm the one who has is surrounded by a bad-luck field, 10 feet in circumference, and anyone within it gets into serious trouble along with me, particularly with Snape. I looked round, but asides from me, the staircase was deserted. Shaking my head, I continued to the Common Room.

**Hermione**

_It's one thing to be caught crying. _Maybe you'll get pitied and left alone for a bit, and you'll be a bit embarrassed for a while, but it soon blows over. The next worse thing is being caught by either the person you were crying about, your one true love (who doesn't know it) or the most popular person in the school (no exaggeration), because they obviously make you uncomfortable in the first place - particularly the first two options. But to be seen bawling your eyes out at the most god-forsaken hour of the night by the very person who possesses all three of the former options… in the good words of Freddie Mercury, you don't want to die - instead, you wish you'd never been born at all.

Harry came bursting into the Common Room, clearly not expecting anyone to be here - and probably still thought so, as he appeared not to know I was there. I held my breath, trying to stem the hiccoughs and keep the gasping sobs at bay, and scrunched down as far as I could in my seat - but they are my three biggest weaknesses: shyness, noisy crier and the fact I am the worst spontaneous hider in the history of the world. The second Harry stepped one inch towards me, I just had to let out the legendary little-girl-crying snuffle-sob that would make Scarlett O'Hara jealous. He stopped for a second, spinning around wildly, before I felt his eyes settle on me. I promptly threw my face into a cushion, hoping I wouldn't be recognised. There was a painful pause, then… "Her-Hermione?"

I stayed very still, like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights (an event that unfortunately, due to my mothers abysmal driving, I had witnessed first-hand). A gentle, clumsy hand reached out and stroked my bushy hair comfortingly - so _that _was the giveaway! He continued for a second before sitting down beside me. "'Mione," he whispered into my ear. "Are you ok?" I shook my head into the cushion with a long, shuddering breath. He edged closer, so close we were practically touching. He reached out and stoked his thumb over my hand, lowering his face to mine uncertainly. "D-d'you want to talk?"

At that point, I lost it. I threw my arms around his neck, so tightly he could hardly breathe, and sobbed heavily onto his shoulder, completely soaking the Nirvana t-shirt he was wearing. The shell-shocked sweetheart just patted me on the back and awkwardly pulled me into a hug, resting his cheek on my head. "What's the matter, 'Mione?" he asked nervously (I could hardly blame him) as I dripped all over him. "I-I-it's s-s-st-t-u-pid." I sobbed uncontrollably. "No, it's not." Such a sweet liar. I gulped.

"Nobody-y wants any t-thing to d-do with me-e!" God, I sounded pathetic.

"Yes, they do. I know Neville does," Again, with the awkward pause. "And… and I most certainly do." Pause. "A lot." he added shyly. I pulled back. "Y-you do?" I questioned, my sobs subsiding. I couldn't tell in the firelight, but Harry's face seemed to blend in pretty well with the scarlet Gryffindor hangings behind us, and our lips were only a breath apart. It then became apparent that I was sitting in his lap. Of all the places. Of all the people. Harry Freakin' Potter's lap. Even with a million trap-doors and trick stairs here at Hogwarts, where is one when you need one?

**Harry**

_I've never seen anyone move so fast in my entire life. _One minute, I'm engaged in a pretty embarrassing (though thoroughly enjoyable) hug with the lovely Kylie - I mean, _Hermione, _damn it, Dean!- and the next, she's on the other side of the room, looking anywhere but at me. She was a shade of red that would rival Ron, but I didn't care, because she still looked pretty to me. Not _almost_ pretty, like I had said before. This time, she was beautiful - an awkward realisation. The room was silent, except for the crackling flames, and the sound of the others heart-beat. I stood up and turned to the door. The silence in the room was too still, uncomfortable, and it was time to break it. "Look, please talk," I whispered. "You seemed really upset, and I thought you might want a bit of company."  
"A valid hypothesis ." she sniffed.  
"What?"" It means you were right."  
"Oh." I walked over to the armchair she was occupying and sat on the arm.

"So…" she laughed nervously.  
"So…"  
"DyalikeNirvana?" Hermione uttered an undistinguishable string of random words, ending with a hiccough.  
"Huh?"  
"Er, do you, um, do you like Nirvana?" She repeated, gesturing to my enormous hand-me-down t-shirt, blushing.  
"Weird as it sounds, no," I chortled. "This is my cousin's. I'm more of a Queen fan."  
"Seriously?"  
"Hell yeah, only Mercury fan in the house." We shared a small smile and a nod of understanding.

"Uh… you like Diff'rent Strokes?" I asked. Hermione paused, considering.  
"I don't really know." she mused, seemingly more confident. " I've never really watched it. We always watched Corrie at home, mum was in charge of the remote. And the shopping. Probably explains why I had never tried a marshmallow until I was eleven."  
"What do you mean, you've never watched Diff'rent Stokes! You're the only person I know who could tell Arnold what Willis was talking about!" I cried in mock-horror. Hermione giggled , and was about to reply when the clock began to chime.

**Hermione**

"We'd, um, better be going." I said, nodding at the clock as it rang out for the eleventh and final time. Harry nodded back, and, being the sweet boy he is, pulled me into a quick, tight hug good-night. "Night." He yawned, turning for the boys dormitories, and as he opened the door, I could just make out Seamus' trademark yell. Harry shook his head, and as he began to climb the stairs, I smiled properly for the first time since I had arrived at Hogwarts. I had no idea how sufficiently awkward the next day would be, or how it would be Halloween until we could publicly be friends, or even begin to imagine the kind of insane adventures we would get ourselves into over the next seven years. All I could do as I headed off to bed was think about those few stolen moments with Harry in the Common Room and grin. _'Hermione Potter' _I thought. _'It has a nice ring to it, I must say.'_

* * *

_Finally! It's here! Aren't I a good girl! I'm sorry it wasn't here as soon as promised, I have just been busy with my other hobby, movie-making for the wondrous site known as YouTube. As a closing quote, I will say this: _**"The course of true love never did run smooth" **_Lysander to Hermia, A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare, an epic poet and playwright that just happens to be from MY COUNTY - __**Warwickshire Represent! **__Bye-bye peeps! Until we meet again! x_

_DramionePerfected xxx _


	4. Club of Culture, Crimping and Kisses

_**AAAAARRRRGHH**__! Sorry! I know I said this was complete, but I couldn't help myself! I just didn't feel the story __**ended**__, y'know? Just… read. And if you like Hairspray go read my fic __**Fireflies**__. It's lonely because only 2 very special people have reviewed. Meh: (_

_**DISCLAIMER: **__If I was J., I would sue saying the Malone's on Flushed Away are basically rat versions of the Weasley's, and that it's a copyright breach, but… well… I'm not J.K. Sorry._

_**WARNING! WEASLEY BASHING!**_

* * *

_**Muggle Raised Tendencies - Epilogue: Club of Culture, Crimping and Kisses**_

_**7 YEARS LATER - 6**__**th**__** September 1998, 2306 hours**_

_**Harry**_

_Tonight had been eerily quiet. _I had decided to return to Hogwarts just three days before my final auror exam, and to be truthful, I don't have a clue why. I probably just wanted to have a laugh, talk a bit, like old times - but by the time I arrived from London, the only thing on my mind was to get some sleep. My long over-due catch-up would have to wait until morning.

I walked slowly along the dark, deserted corridor, letting the cool night air wash over me. On campus, there is no space to be by yourself: every inch of it is stuffed with noisy, fidgety and often intoxicated M.M.o.D. (Magical Ministry of Defence) students; in the café, in the library, in the auditorium, the dormitories, the kitchens, the bathrooms - heck, once I even got back from a lecture on to find my freaking klepto room-mate using my freaking floo-powder to ask his mother to come down from freaking Newcastle to iron his freaking robes. That's one of the sacrifices you make, going into higher education. Nothing's just yours anymore, and you have to fight tooth and nail for things to stay within arms reach. _I tell you, if that git has stolen my Queen LP again, I swear he'll be meeting Freddie Mercury sooner than he thinks._

_**Hermione**_

_I can hardly breathe. _I sit here, face hidden behind a cushion, almost suffocating on the tears. It has been years since I have cried this hard. _My dad will kill him_. He will fetch his goddamn rifle and shoot him between the eyes. At least, he would if mother didn't get there first. They still think I'm ten, and to be honest, I wish I was - at least then I would be young enough, naïve enough, innocent enough, to forgive him. What was Ron thinking, when he kissed her, that skank, that _thing? _Didn't he see me standing there beside the window, my heart shattering before his very eyes? I have been beaten, starved and tortured, but Bellatrix Lestrange's _Crucio _is a far cry from the pain Ron had inflicted with that one kiss.

As I saw Ron and Lavender's lips meet for the first time since sixth year, something tugged in my heart, made me wish I was anywhere but there, with someone who actually loved me. Preferably in London, at the University of Magical Law Enforcement, Room 19B (so I had been told), in the arms of a raven-haired, emerald-eyed wizard that _might-like-me-that-I-want-to-like-me-who-likes-me-but-probably-doesn't-like-me-like-that. _It has been an age since I had last admitted having feelings for Harry, but when we were together in the tent, cuddled close with only each other for company, trying to forget what was going on just outside … through wind, rain and near-death scrapes whilst Ron was in the warmth and safety of the Burrow… it must sound absurdly cliché, but I felt like we were meant to be. Harry and I, never Ron or Ginny, but _us. _I never thought for a second that stupid ginger prick would come back, screwing everything up and making life ridiculously complicated once more. I have forgiven him far too often, it seems - from accusing my cat of murder to leaving us for dead in the middle of a god-forsaken forest. I used to be happy with him, but now, when I see him, it is like I wish he had never came back to us, and stole my opportunity to tell Harry how I felt… about him, about Ron… about _everything. Enough is enough. _When I see him again - December, for the Christmas Holidays, I assume - I _promise_ myself I will make it clear that I am sick and tired of him, the way he builds me up to knock me straight back down, and above all, how he says he loves me, then leaves for _her. _Bloody hell, she might be pretty, but her head's like a freaking football, filled with nothing but air. I'll say as much, too. I sigh, shuddering through the last of the tears as I close my eyes and lie down on the sofa in front of the slowly extinguishing fire._  
It's going to be a long wait until December, but I'm sure, at the end of the day, that only good things can come from it._

_**Harry**_

_When I finally arrived outside the common room that I had once lived in as a student, I knew something was wrong. _Hermione's fat, ginger, miniature-tiger Crookshanks (but who I still called Garfield) was lying outside the portrait hole, looking extremely disgruntled and glaring up at me with strangely basalisk-esque yellow eyes. "What's up with you?" I whispered, staring straight back. "Miss Norris sick of you?" Stepping over him, I noticed that the portrait was slightly ajar, and as quietly as possible, I climbed inside, a hissing, scrambling Crookshanks hot on my heels. "Freaking psychopathic cat," I muttered. "What are you, some kind of snake?" The room became oddly silent, oddly still. Then I heard it: a small, strangled hiccough from the couch in front of the fire. It was only a matter of seconds before I remembered where I last heard that noise. "Hermione?" I whisper. _Deja-bloody-Vu!_

_**Hermione**_

_Have you every jumped so bad you feel like you have literally jumped out of your skin? _If not, it's bloody horrible, I can tell you. Your heart goes into overdrive, all the breath gets sucked out of you and no matter how hard you try you can't stop shaking, almost as if you are having a heart attack. So imagine how I felt when some _berk _decides to put his head on my shoulder when I thought I was alone. _"H-Harry?"_

"Sshhh! Keep it down, yeah? It's what, quarter past eleven?"  
"Well, if someone hadn't just-"  
"Sshhh!"  
I stopped to glare at him, sniffing. "What the _hell _are you doing here?" I pout.  
He laughs at me, slips his arm around my neck. "Love you too, 'Mione." My heart pummelled at my ribcage, fluttering wildly like a hummingbird heartbeat. Harry was talking to me, sat right beside me, but his voice seemed a thousand miles away, hazy and vague. "What's up?"

"Huh?"  
"You've been crying, 'Mione," he said, looking me straight in my bloodshot eyes. "What's happened?"  
"Oh." I snivelled, snuggling into the crook of his elbow, inhaling his warmth, his clean, musky scent. I must have stayed quiet for far too long because soon I was shaken by Harry. "Hermione…" he softly. "It's Ron, ain't it."  
"_Isn't_ it, Mr Potter, isn't it." I smiled; a fake grin fixed to my face "Do speak correctly, good sir."  
"It_ is _Ron."  
Harry knew just how to get around me. I sighed as my face dropped, admitting defeat. "Yeah"

"So…" Harry pressed, looking me straight in the eye. One of the many differences between Ron and Harry: _Harry cared.  
"_Long story short, Ron's with Lavender again. Isn't that sweet?"  
"What? He's left you? Oh, _'Mione_!"  
"Oh no, he hasn't ditched me, not yet," I said, my voice growing higher with every syllable, the waterworks threatening with every word. "Seems Lavender's his dirty little _secret_!" I broke down, crying into my lap. Harry just sat there, face like thunder, staring into the fire.  
"_Bastard_."  
"Thank you, Harry. Your insults against your best friend mean a lot to me."  
A flicker of a smile appeared then, as he replied. "He's not my friend. Not any more."

We sat in silence, bathed in the deep crimson light from the fire, Harry's hand tangled in my impossible hair. I had to pick up on that, didn't I? Like how his emerald eyes sparkled with flecks of gold when he was happy, and darkened to a rich forest colour when he was sad. _Typical me_. _There wasn't hope for my heart yet. _

_**Harry**_

"_So what's life like in Potterland, eh?" _Hermione tries to lighten up: I know how hard this is for her, how much she had trusted him. I take care to avoid the fact that I knew it wouldn't work out - the last thing she needs now is an '_I told you so.' _Was it wrong that I was relieved by the thought of my best friend's relationship crashing? Or was I more pleased by the thought of her potentially being available? Either way, it really wasn't a clever thing to bring up. '_University students are supposed to make intelligent decisions.' _That's what my lecturer said when the class was interrupted by a sobbing student, crying over a bad break-up.

But Hermione's smarter than me, smarter than any of us - heck, I once heard Professor McGonagall saying that she could have given Dumbledore himself a run for his money back when he was her age - and she still got upset over trivial things. I guess she was human after all - and really needed her mind taken off things. "Uh…" I sat for a moment, trying to dodge any relationship-related rumours. "A Muggle on the tube told me I looked like the love-child of Demi Moore and Boy George on the way here." _Smooth._

Hermione laughed in spite of her tears, studying my face. "You _do_!" she giggled. "Check that nose!"  
"Oi! Speak for yourself, dwarf nose."  
"What do you mean, dwarf nose?"  
"You've got a tiny nose! Look at it! Either you're part-Swedish or your grandmother's a mouse!"  
Hermione smiles sadly, leans back against my chest. "Harry?"  
"Yeah, 'Mione?"  
"Can I ask you something? I need you to be totally honest"  
"You've got my word. Scout's honour."  
"Do you think I'm pretty?" _So much for avoiding awkward questions_. I look at her, all slanted cheekbones and golden skin and warm, sad mocha eyes; tawny hair spilling over the arm of the sofa like a honey coloured waterfall - with a ridiculously cute dwarf nose. Crystal teardrops quivered at the ends of her long, sweeping eyelashes. How could she even question how beautiful she was? It was a plain, intelligent kind of beauty, different to Ginny or Cho. _No matter what anyone said, she was beautiful, end of._

"You clean up well." I smile at her, stroking her hair, feeling it slip through my fingers like silk thread. I pick up a pocket mirror somebody left on the side and hold it up to her face. "See? Gorgeous." _And that look Hermione gave me, of admiration and appreciation and of slight confusion, made me feel better than I had in a quite a while_.

_**Hermione**_

Harry yawns, lying flat on his back; his arms, wrapped tightly around my waist, drag me down with him. "Harry-y-y! What you playing at?" I half-hiss, half-yawn (a hiss-yawn?), turning (I must say!) a rather spectacular shade of red.  
"I'm knackered, that's what. Two late nights in a row. Wow. I'm such a rebel!" I giggle, taking in his hilarious Malfoy-esque smirk. (note to self: must stop giggling) "Harry Potter, on a school night?"  
"Ha! Yeah. Exam on Monday!"

"WHAT?" I leap up, nearly head butting him." You have an EXAM!" Harry shoots me the look of 'are-you-well-and-truly-insane?', making shushing gestures with his hands.  
"11:37, Hermione, 11:37!"  
"And you should be in bed, NOT down here distracting me with cuddles. Exam Monday indeed!"  
I glare at Harry, shaking my head at his puppy-dog pout. "And pray tell me, that yesterdays late night was down to hard work and studying?"  
"Um, actually, I went to go and see the Mighty Boosh"  
"The mighty WHAT?"  
"Boosh. Muggle comedy show. Very funny." Harry mumbles, looking somewhat terrified (ha! Serves him right!). He gets up and walks towards the boys dormitory door, keeping very close watch on the wand in my hand. "Look, 'Mione, I think I aught to go and sleep."  
"You do realise there isn't a bed there for you anymore?"  
Harry looks sheepish. "I knew that!"  
"Serves you right, you horrible little dastardly ditcher! I was thoroughly convinced I'd be the first of us to go university!"

"Hey, less the little, mousey!"  
"Aw, bless! He's got a complex!"  
"I couldn't help being short!"  
"Harry! Get a grip! You're 6 foot 2!"  
"I'm leaving!"  
"Good! Exam Monday indeed!"  
"_You_ have to leave!" Harry blurts out, looking triumphant. "I don't have a bed, but you do, and I need to sleep on the sofa, so hereby, you must leave!"

I yawn, too tired to bother anymore. "Whatever. I don't want to see you here when I'm up. I want you studying." I turn to see Harry looking at me oddly, propped up on his elbows. "I've forgotten something." He stands up, slowly walks over to me, places his hand on my shoulder. "What's up?" I mumble. I feel a flutter of nerves in the pit of my stomach; I stare down at my slippers like they were the most fascinating things in the world. He somehow gets closer still, like he's trying to measure us up - which is stupid, because I haven't grown an inch since third year. "You know last time we, er, hung out like this, just us, at night. First year, right?"

I nod. "Yeah…" _What's he getting at? "_You know what I forgot?" I shake my head, suddenly struck dumb. And then he leans in, capturing my lips with his. I stiffen before melting into his arms, nothing seeming real expect for Harry, _my_ Harry. Far too soon, he pulls away, leaving me standing awkwardly on tiptoe. We catch each other's eye - I blush as he smiles down at me. "Is that what you forgot?" I murmur, finding my voice at last.  
"Yes," he whispers. _A goodnight kiss._

_**Harry**_

_I nudge Hermione towards the dormitory doors, suppressing my laughter as she giggles and stumbles, unprepared. _"Bugger off, then," I yawn, lying back down on the sofa with a thump. "I need to study in the morning." I wait until she is next to the door before calling her.  
"And 'Mione?"  
"Yeah?" her voice comes, sleepy and dazed.  
"I should probably tell you, that promise meant nothing. I was never a boy scout."

This time I can't help but laugh as a battered copy of _'Hogwarts: A History' _comes flying across the common room, landing three inches short of my head. As I set the book down, I grin. **'_Hermione Potter. It has a nice ring to it, I must say.'_**

* * *

_DONE! AT LAST! WAYHEY! Thankyou to AmiliaPadfoot, who I know probably won't read this, as she is strictly against Hhr, but is great anyway. And thank YOU! Why? For reading this, silly! The next bit is down to you. Click on the ickle button below and let me know exactly what you thought, Ok? Good! As a final, random, Mighty-Boosh-related quote, I will say this: __**"I'm the moon, the original moon… BYE!" **__xoxo_


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